somewhere over there
by edeabeth
Summary: "My uncle Ivan take me from orphanage. He says better times here." high school AU, warning for abuse


_somewhere over there_

.

Avengers high school AU. Something I've been wanting to do since I made an ATLA university AU.

Usually, I'm for Natasha and anyone else but Clint. But not this time.

Also, this is my longest fanfiction that I've ever written. I wrote the first two pages about a year ago before forgetting about it, and found it while procrastinating instead of actually writing essays and studying. (worst student ever)

.

(I'm horrible at writing accents, by the way.)

.

Their first meeting was the cliché sort.

(it usually is in these stories)

She was nothing more than a red head dwarfed in a hoodie whom he had collided into, his shoulder knocking into her own and sending all their belongings flying across the floor.

Clint mumbled an apology, not even bothering to glance at her. She was struggling to snatch up papers from the waxed floor, trying to avoid the crowd of students walking to and from. "Fuck," he spat out.

"You hit me." She shot at him, her words sounding rough and low against the noise of the people around them.

"Yeah. Sorry." He handed her a form covered in red ink.

She nodded, snatching it back and leaping up. Suddenly she was gone, slipping into the crowd of students that were clogged the main hallways.

'Clinton Barton, please report to Guidance Center immediately.' The announcements demanded. Rolling his eyes, he began to make his way opposite to the Guidance Center.

.

"You know, Katniss. Guidance isn't inside the labs." Tony smirked as he passed him, fingers tapping away on the tablet he carried around with him. "Try going to other way."

"Shove it." He grunted.

Tony looked up for about three seconds before returning his gaze down towards the bright tablet. "Bad morning?"

Clint moaned, shuffling his papers in his hands quickly. "Is there even such thing as a good morning?" Pausing, he quickly refilled through his papers before swearing. "I forgot that damn Hamlet essay at home."

"I don't think anyone did the Hamlet assignment to begin with. You are in good company, have no fear." Tony muttered. "Any reason why they want you in Guidance? You light that weird kid's books on fire again?"

"The weird kid? You mean that weird kid that hacked into all my personal files and stole them?" Clint glared. "No. Haven't touched him since. His brother won't stop looking at me whenever I'm in the immediate vicinity of him."

Tony sighed. "Good. His brother is huge. Arms bigger than your entire body. He'd fuck you up. And I'd film it for you. Sell it on EBay. Or blackmail."

"Screw off."

He walked through the lab doors with Tony and sat down for almost an entire five minutes before the teacher was scribbling out a pass. "Mr. Barton, you are needed in Guidance." The woman frowned, holding out the pass to him. "They want you there now."

Clint rolled his eyes at Tony before snatching the pass.

.

Swearing under his breath, he took his time walking to the Guidance Center.

.

Passing through the hallways slowly, he managed to finally end up at Guidance with its large and imposing doors that would swing shut with a hitch. He hated the noise it made, making him cringe at the way they fell shut behind him.

_Fuck_.

"Mr. Barton." Maria Hill greeted smoothly from behind her desk. "Please, take a seat. I'd like to talk to you."

Slumping into the stiff chair, he mumbled out, "Where's Coulson?"

Her gaze narrowed. "_Mr_. Coulson is sick. Though, this was his idea."

"Great."

Sighing, she shut the screen of the laptop down. "I have an assignment for you to handle for me."

"No." He jumped to his feet. "I have homework to do. I don't want any of these assignments. I don't want to help the school play or pick up garbage because I don't care about any of these stupid social projects. I have better things to do."

"Sit down." She waited until he reluctantly did so. "You will be helping our new student today. She is from Russia, and we wanted somebody to show her around. Mr. Coulson thought you would be the perfect somebody."

He exhaled angrily. "No."

Leaning back in her chair, she studied him like a target. Uncomfortable, he crossed his arms and slouched. She asked, removing her glasses and setting them aside. "Why not?"

"There were like seven new students last month, and no one bothered me then. Why am I suddenly needed now to give out tours?"

She smirked at him. "First, there were only three new students last month. We already had volunteers in advance to help show them around and settle into the routine we have here. We are only bothering you now, as you so delicately put it, because you need to experience community help. Mr. Coluson had assumed you would be the perfect candidate to show her around." She paused as she leaned forward. "The Loki Odinson incident was smoothed over rather quickly, wasn't it?"

"I would have been fine with being suspended."

"Too late for that decision, isn't it?"

He glared at the desk. "I'll show her around for today."

"Good,"

.

**From: TONY-where r u? u missed me correct that lecture the teacher was utterly failing at. i took notes for you btw, yw. the fuck you do now bitch?**

Smirking, Clint began tapping away at the keyboard. **From: CLINT-I've been enlisted to show some transfer around. Hill is blackmailing me with the loki thing.**

**From: TONY-LMAOand this is why, my dear Katniss, we just do not light books on fire. We explode da shit!**

**From: CLINT- little late on the lecture, einstein. **

**From: TONY- foreign?**

**From: CLINT- what?**

**From: TONY- transfer. Foreign? We have to many frigging asians here. AND NONE OF THEM EAT CAT. OR RICE. FML. **

**From: CLINT- you are an idiot. and yeah. Forget where hill said the kid was from. **

Ignoring the almost frantic buzzing, Clint shoved his phone back into his pocket as some girl walked out of the office. Mrs. Hill stood up and beckoned for him to come closer. "Clint, this is Natasha. Natasha, Clint will be showing you around for the week."

"The day, actually."

"The week, actually, or he will be helping the school musical."

He sighed. "Fine."

"Good. Now go show her around. Natasha, your first class is in the library. English tutoring and communication assignments. We will see where you are at before moving you into another level."

Together they left the guidance center, his phone still buzzing endlessly in his pocket. They walked side by side, working their way towards the library on the second floor. "You like it here?"

"It is alright. Better school than Russian." She spoke, language skewed slightly beneath her accent. "You must be doing better than this job."

It took him a second to figure out what she meant. "Apparently they want me to do it."

She frowned. "You do not have to do this. I find my direction here." He stopped walking, and watched her take off.

Clint ran his hand through his hair. "Natasha. You just walked past the library." He sighed. "Listen. You go in, and once the bell rings, just wait for me right here. I'll come and get you."

Without even waiting for a reply, he spun around and went off to lab.

.

"She good looking?"

"I guess."

.

He found her leaning against a wall with her arms crossed.

"Hey," he greeted her. "What class do you have?"

"I have no class. Says spare."

"Same. Anything you want to do?"

She shrugged. "Tour?"

He guided her along, showing her the classes on her time table. He pointed out the history room, and showed the almost empty art room. He could see Steve working at one of the tables, the room emptied for the period. He looked surrounded by empty canvasses and tubes of paint. "Why he is alone?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just likes being alone, I guess."

She followed him silently.

Clint looked at her for a second. "So why'd you come here?"

She gave him a sharp look. "You mean, why I come to America?"

He shrugged again before nodding.

"My uncle Ivan take me from orphanage. He says better times here."

.

Somewhere over the week, it became tradition to have lunch together.

The school was aggravating. Everyone crammed into tight spaces, restricted to metal lockers and empty desks. He hated it all. The constant feeling of being surrounded. Natasha seemed to feel similar, looking tense by the time they found each other. They'd meet by the door and slip off into the fields.

He noticed it the first time that she hadn't brought a lunch with her, and quietly offered her one of the pop tarts in the package before deciding then to start packing a bigger lunch.

.

"Clinton," she spoke suddenly from her position sprawled out over the grass across from him.

He instantly shot upwards. "Who told you that?"

She smirked. "I have many ways."

Clint narrowed his eyes at her. "You know everything, do you?"

"Yes."

He settled back down into the grass with his hands covering his eyes. "For someone who knows so much, at least I've seen Harry Potter."

She exhaled. "You Americans and silly sticks of wood."

"British, actually."

She went quiet again.

"Is warm here."

.

"You are late," Mrs. Evans called from the kitchen as he shut the door behind him.

He halted at the doorway. "Sorry."

She dried her hands with the towel hanging off the fridge. "Were you showing that girl around today?" There was a strange look on her face. "It's been two weeks. Shouldn't she know her way around by this point?"

Natasha didn't need help exactly, but it was a good excuse to stay late after school and take advantage of the emptied building. "She's still not used to the place," he said, kicking his shoes off. "When is dinner?"

"You said she was foreign?" She frowned at his method of removing his shoes. "I hear there were a lot of Asian students this year."

"Russian."

"Dinner will be done soon. You can go tell your brothers to get ready, please?"

He sighed before heading up the stairs. He could already hear his foster brothers arguing in their room, fast words peppered with sharp curses. "If Mrs. Evans hears you say that again, she'll ground you." He sighed, already aggravated.

Colton was only nine years old and was as obnoxious as they come. He felt almost bad for Greg, thirteen and stuck with the little beast-except Greg wasn't much better half the time.

"I don't have to listen to you," Colton said almost savagely. "You're not the boss of me."

"You came home late." Greg crossed his arms.

Clint felt a headache start. "Dinner will be done in a bit. Don't kill each other."

He left the shared bedroom and went for his own, locking the door behind him as he pulled out his phone from his pocket, checking for any texts.

Clint threw himself down onto his bed, checking the single notification.

**From: TONY-hellloooo lover boy.**

Clint growled in frustration. **From: CLINT- you call me that one more time, they won't ever find the body.**

**From: TONY- someone is testy today. Not enough smooch time?**

Clint threw the phone across the room.

.

He caught a glimpse of red hair walking along the side of the road from his bus.

.

"You are late." Natasha crossed her arms tightly. She looked right at home against the landscape of trees turning red and gold, catching the midafternoon sun perfectly. "You say two, it is five past."

Her crossed expression broke into a slight smirk.

"Forgive me."

"I will," her words halted sharply before speaking again. "I will consider."

They began walking down the road together quietly. "Did you tell your uncle you were meeting me?"

"No." Natasha said shortly. "He know nothing."

Clint nodded. There was a bruise on her wrist, an ugly dark purple against her pale skin. "Hungry?"

She gave a small smile. "Very."

She had a few crumpled bills in her pocket, enough for a hot chocolate and a pastry from the small café a few streets over. "You drink arsenic." She scowled at his coffee.

He laughed as he lifted his drink toward her own. "To good times?"

"To good times." She repeated, clinked her own mug against his.

.

It was a little after one in the morning when his phone went off.

"Say something." Natasha whispered.

Clint's mind felt thick. "Say what? Are you okay?"

Her orders sounded anxious. "You speak. Talk."

"Anything?"

"Anything," she pleaded.

He paused, trying to get his words together. "I'm going to get you. Where are you?"

"Stay there. Please, just speak."

"I grew up in a circus. I used to be an act called Hawkeye. I was one of the best archers they had." He fell silent for a second. "We went all through America traveling. My brother used to work with animals."

He kept talking, telling every story he could have think of until she would say something. Clint kept telling old stories again and again, repeating them when he ran out of words to say.

"Are you asleep?" He whispered.

"Thank you," Natasha whispered back and ended the call.

.

Natasha never went to school that week.

.

"You're getting all steamed up, aren't you?" Tony sighed as he tilted back in his computer chair. "She's not responding to your texts, not showing up for school. It's stressing you out."

Clint didn't even bother to respond to him.

"You know where she lives?"

He lifted his head slightly from his arms to look at his friend. "No."

Tony gave him a brilliant smile. "Good, because I do."

"You hacked her files, didn't you?"

"Are you even surprised?"

"I can't believe you sometimes."

.

Natasha Romanoff lived across town with her uncle in a red brick house with streaked windows. The porch steps creaked when he walked up them and the white door was dirty.

A water stained newspaper had been left on the porch, pages scattered with blurry print. He knocked carefully.

Clint could hear raised voices inside the door. He wasn't sure if they were speaking Russian or English, but they sounded angry.

The door swung open almost violently. "Hello." She blinked when she saw it was him. "Why are you here?"

He frowned. "You haven't been at school."

"I was sick." She paused, crossing her arms roughly. "You leave me be."

"What happened? You called me in the middle of the night, and then hung up." Clint felt frustration build up. "You can't just do that."

"I do not wish to speak to you."

"Well, I wanna speak to you."

Her expression was like marble, pale and withdrawn. "What we want, we do not get."

"What the hell?"

Natasha stepped out of the house, shutting the door behind her carefully. "You do not tell me what I do or not do." She paused, looking around the dirty neighbourhood. "You find me. How?" Natasha stood defensively away from him with her shoulders hunched.

"Doesn't matter."

"It does matter!"

He clenched his fists. "What does matter is that you are avoiding me."

Natasha closed her eyes. "I want you to leave me be."

"Fine." Clint spun around and left her standing there alone on the porch watching him walk away.

.

"Wanna talk about it, Katniss?"

"No."

.

He stops looking for the glimpse of red hair.

.

"Hey," Steve greeted Clint by the library. "Do you have a second? I was hoping I could run into you."

Clint frowned. He and Steve had always been on friendly terms, but they'd never explored the social realms beyond mere greetings. "Sure. Here good?"

"Art room?"

"Cool."

They walked silently side by side, not really knowing what to say until they were at the room alone. Steve shut the door tight behind him. "Your friend Natasha is in my art class." He began, running a hand awkwardly through his hair. "She's been different, lately."

He didn't really know what to say. "Alright."

Steve leaned against a table. "One of the guys, Loki, liked to harass her for a bit. At first she was brushing it off when she got here, but this morning he grabbed her arm and she pushed him hard." When Clint didn't anything he continued on. "She pushed him really hard. They took him to the hospital."

Clint stared at him. "She pushed him that hard?"

"He was bleeding."

"He had it coming."

Steve snorted. "Yeah. He did."

.

Natasha had started smoking, he realized.

She had returned after her three day suspension in a flurry of glares and scowls. Everyone had heard about what happened, different levels of violence being told throughout the school. On girl claimed she was part of the Russian mafia and another guy in Clint's science class claiming she and Loki had been sleeping around the entire time.

Everyone avoided her, except for Steve.

Now before school she stood alone a little way back from the school smoking, watching the smoke in the air.

She looked harder now, carved out of marble.

.

Natasha still bruised, apparently. Her arms bore proof of this.

.

**From: TASHA-sorry.**

**From: CLINT-can we talk?**

**From: CLINT-don't do this.**

**From: CLINT-I'm serious. **

**From: CLINT-where are you?**

.

Mrs. Evans looked up from her coffee that morning. "You look tired."

He grunted in return.

.

"Can we talk?" He asked her that morning, looking at her shivering frame despite being bundled up in a thick jacket and scarf.

She threw the cigarette down at the ground. "I say I was sorry."

"I know. I got your text." Clint frowned. "Can we talk? I don't understand what happened."

Natasha looked away. The trees all around them were losing their vivid leaves. "I do not think I can talk."

"You have to. Did I do something?" He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "You've avoided me. You also put Loki in the hospital."

She spun around to look at him with an angry expression. "He has no right to touch me."

Clint raised his hands lightly. "I know. Loki's an asshole."

Natasha stood stiff for a few seconds before relaxing slightly. "He is."

"Natasha?"

"Da?"

"Where do you get your bruises from?" Clint held his breath for a second, waiting for her to turn around and run.

She was silent for a few moments before speaking. "Where do you get address from?"

"My friend Tony Stark."

"Can we speak about this later? I do not think here is good."

"When do you want to talk?"

.

His heart felt heavy.

.

"Everyone at school says you're part of the mafia now." He told her as he sat down on the swing next to her. The playground looked like a graveyard of sorts, rusted and abandoned.

She looked at him, her eyes bright. "As if."

"That's what I told them."

She pushed herself a little bit, swinging herself lightly. "Back home, we never had this."

They sat quietly for a few moments.

Natasha's face was shadowed in the dark. The sun had set almost an hour ago. "My uncle Ivan is not a good man."

Clint waited for her to go on.

"He likes money. He likes money very much." She inhaled sharply. "He tell me, here is the land of the rich and happy. Here is land of good times. Somewhere over there, he points. Take a plane and go find it."

He knows the answer but asks anyways, griping the chain of the swing tighter and tighter. "Does he hurt you?"

There was a pause as the street lights flickered on.

"Yes." Natasha tilted backwards in her seat. "He likes money more than blood. Uncle Ivan is very lazy. Lazy does not get money, you know?"

"I know."

"Well, he find a way to make money that he wants. He bring niece from Russia and makes deals with different friends of his."

He dug his heels into the ground. "What are you saying?"

She looked away. "My uncle Ivan is not a good man."

.

Her bedroom is red, she tells him. Red curtains and red walls. Crimson silk sheets, all the colour of blood.

She hates the colour.

.

"You can't stay there."

"I can't? You tell me I can't stay there?" She jumped up from the swing. "You tell me then, where I stay. You tell me where I stay, and how they won't send me back to Russia. I am not here, you know. I am here because of my uncle. You tell me where I go."

Clint grabbed her by the arm.

"You do not understand. I do not have words for the things I feel. I cannot tell you. I hope I die, you know that? Do you know that? My body is my body. Is ruined now. I want to die, and you tell me I can't stay there?"

Natasha turned to leave but Clint wouldn't let go. "I'm not letting you go."

"Leave things alone, Clint." Her bright red hair looked brighter in the street lights, the entire park lit up in the dark shadows. "Leave me be."

He pulled her back but she tried to push him away. "I'm not leaving you this time."

Natasha tried to hit him, desperate to pull herself away from his grip. "I want to _die_. You do not fix this. You cannot." Clint managed to wrestle her into a better grip, pinning her arms to her sides and holding onto her.

She swears at him, words a knotted mess of Russian and English. He doesn't say a word back, but just holds her tighter and tighter as the fight slowly leaves her.

Natasha sags against him, burying her face into his shoulder. "You tell me where I go." She whispered eventually.

"I don't know."

.

"Are you back already? I thought you were staying the night at Tony's," Mrs. Evans greeted him from the table where she sat surrounded by various forms. "Did you forget something?"

She looked up at was greeted by the sight of Clint leading Natasha into the room. "Mrs. Evans, this is my friend Natasha." Clint rubbed the back of his neck. "There was a change in plans. Can see stay here for the night? Her Uncle left for the weekend, and he isn't going to be back until Monday morning, and she's alone in the house."

His foster parent looked like she was a deer caught in headlights. "I don't know. Your brothers are going to be getting ready for bed soon, and maybe tonight isn't a good night."

He swallowed. "Please. She isn't used to living in the house yet and got nervous."

Natasha's face was pale, her eyes ringed with late nights. She looked confused, trying to understand what exactly was being said around. He was speaking faster than he normally did, making it more difficult for her to translate. "If it is bother, I go back to the house. I did not mean to make bother."

Mrs. Evans swallowed. "Well, I don't suppose there would be an issue. I don't know where to put you though, for the night. The younger boys share a room, and Clint has his own room," she broke into a stressed sounding laugh, "obviously, that won't work."

"We have a couch." Clint shrugged.

"Alright then." She nodded.

Clint felt uncomfortable standing between the two. "Can we go upstairs for a bit and hang out?"

"The door will be open, and don't be loud. Colton will be going to bed shortly."

Both of them practically fled up the stairs and towards his room, of course running into Greg. "Who's she?"

"This is Natasha." Clint sighed, pulling her into his room. "Goodnight."

Clint could hear the kid start yelling to Mrs. Evans about a girl being in his room. "Sorry. That's Greg. He's annoying."

"Thank you," she mumbled, looking intently at her feet.

Natasha smelt like cinnamon and cigarette smoke, looking cold and unsure. "Here." He pulled out a few things from his closet and handed them to her. "You don't exactly have anything to wear tonight."

He left the room for a few moments, allowing her to get changed into a pair of his sweats and his shirt. "Finished." She called.

"I have an idea." Clint told her, sitting down beside her.

"Go on." She sat next to him.

"My friend Tony. His dad is rich. He's a jerk, but he'll help if Tony asks him."

Natasha was silent, hugging her clothes to her chest. "Better times, maybe."

.

Natasha smoked the rest of her cigarettes the next morning, throwing the empty package into the garbage can.

.

Once they told the story to Tony, each and every layer, he got his father involved.

His father got the world involved.

.

"Is strange here." Natasha admitted, her voice sounding quiet through the phone. "Your friend is loud, and he understands much language."

"He told me he decided to learn Russian a few weeks ago. He thought it might help."

"He understand much language, but he is terrible of it." He could almost hear her smile.

Clint laughed. "Don't tell him that. You'll break his heart."

"It is good here. Not perfect, but is good."

He flopped backwards onto his bed. "I haven't seen you since court."

"I know. Very busy here. Filling out papers. Government dealings to keep me here. Tony's father is strange. Does not father the way fathers should." There was a slight pause. "Did that make sense?"

"It did."

"Good."

"Are the papers to keep you with the Starks, or in the country?"

"A little bit of both."

"Good."

"You know, it is after midnight." She yawned.

"Yeah. Tired?"

"No. You?"

"Nope."

.

Christmas was a shiny affair.

Everyone was singing and smiling, greeting every passerby with the traditional phrase. "Merry Christmas!" Tony threw a handful of confetti at him. "You are invited to the Christmas gathering of the Starks."

"Did you have to throw confetti?"

He smirked. "It adds a little something to the invite, don't you think?"

"Is she here?"

"Whom are we speaking of?"

"Stark."

"Barton."

Clint ran a hand through his hair. "Why are you so infuriating to talk to?"

"I had a bad childhood."

"Is Natasha here today?"

"Yeah."

.

"Welcome back."

She mumbled something that sounded like a Russian curse. "Is delightful."

"Want to skip first period?"

"Want to skip second?"

"Sounds good to me."

.

"You drink arsenic." Natasha told him blandly, nodding towards his mug of coffee as they sat down at the café. "Tony said he would invite you to the party."

"Every time." He smirked. "He did. You'll be there, right?"

"Of course. Tony say I am family, and this party is family?"

The café was decorated in all sorts of Christmas styled cheer. A fake tree was decorated with tinsel and red ornaments. A couple of shiny wrapped presents sat at the base. "Did you find your good times yet?" He asked her, feeling suddenly so very awkward in his chair.

She blinked. "Good times are somewhere over there, still. Just closer to them, you know?"

"I think I know."

"The party sounds big." She changed the subject quickly, and he'd never would have noticed the change if she hadn't gripped onto the chair tightly.

"They like big parties. It'll probably be smaller this year, with security and stuff."

Natasha nodded. "Will your," she faltered for a moment, "Mrs. Evans let you go to the party?"

He shrugged. "She probably won't, but Mr. Evans will. He's better for that sort of thing."

"I hope you go."

.

"Can I?"

"It's Christmas Eve."

"Still."

"It's time for family."

"She is family!"

.

"Merry Christmas," Natasha smiled thinly at him from the entrance of the massive apartment. "Mr. Stark does business, but lets us have free reign."

He handed her a crudely wrapped gift, more tape then actual paper. "Same to you. It's so loud in here."

"Tony invite many people from school." She wrinkled her nose. "Many drunk people."

He scowled. "He likes to throw big parties. I never realized it'd be this big."

"Thank you," she pulled at his wrist. "I have present for you."

The party was a massive hoard of drunken teenagers roaring and laughing. He could see Steve standing awkwardly at the bar with some pretty red head, a girl he thought was in one of Tony's business classes. Loki hadn't been invited, but his brother had been. Even the reclusive Bruce Banner had been extended an invite, encouraged to come and join the hazy mess of teenage drunken stupor.

Natasha looked nice in a black dress and heels, walking firmly through the crowd towards the almost hidden hallway. "I do not think this is good place."

"I don't think so either."

She led him towards her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind them and locking it. "I feel better with lock." Natasha explained shortly. "Here."

The present was wrapped in a shiny purple paper and embellished with a gold ribbon.

"Open mine first."

She sat down on her bed, crossing her ankles as she carefully opened it up. She pulled out a single volume and a smaller package. "Great Gatsby?"

"It's about the 1920s, when everyone was trying to have a good time. I thought you might like it." He hadn't been able to afford much, but he remembered reading it for English class the year before. It'd been the only book he had actually enjoyed, and it was the only one Tony actually bothered to read.

Natasha slowly removed the necklace from the small little velvet pouch. It was nothing more than a silver arrow on a chain, but he'd thought of her when he had seen it.

Her eyes looked a bit wet but she just pointed to his package.

"Open."

He tried to open it as delicately as he could, but despite his best efforts it ripped and tore. "Sorry," he said, looking up. Natasha smirked at him, pointing again. "Right."

"I make when I was unable to go from custody." Natasha told him quietly. "Is not much."

It was a dark purple knitted hat. "It's perfect. It's my favourite colour."

"Clint?"

"Yeah?"

Natasha crossed her legs, mindful of the black heels. "I call you once, and ask you to speak and speak. You remember?"

"I remember." Clint remembered how it felt, talking late into the night. How midnight bled into morning, and the ragged breathing from her end of the line. "Why?"

"I am sorry."

When he didn't say anything she continued.

"I should not have run away after. I run, you follow and I shut you down." She began playing with the necklace. "I avoid you."

He moved a little closer and wrapped a hand around her pale ankle. "How do you even walk in these?" He looked confused at the stilettos, imagining various scenarios in which she snapped her ankles while walking before forcing himself _not_ to think about it. "It's okay. I get it."

Clint looked around the bedroom. It was painted a dark purple, almost the same colour as his new hat. The room was expensive, soft blankets and a mound of pillows.

It was empty, though.

There were no pictures or trinkets. It was a blank slate. Her clothing was in the closet, and she had a few school books stacked neatly up on her desk.

The only thing he couldn't see was the colour red.

.

"Do you still want to die?"

"I do not think so."

.

Christmas goes and New Year's follow, months bleeding away into a numbing routine that makes him grit his teeth and feel caged.

"You once live in a circus."

"Yeah."

They were hanging out in his room, the door opened just a crack. He could hear Colton and Greg screaming at each other downstairs, both sets of fosters trying to contain their rage. "You never tell me why you left."

He sat down at his desk, rolling backwards in his chair. "They started having money issues, and abandoned both my brother and I."

"Your brother is Greg or Colton?"

"Neither. I don't know where he went." Natasha looked confused. "Once we were put in the system, we got separated."

"Do you miss him?"

"A little."

.

"Kiss me." She eventually told him, pressing him against a wall.

.

They lay out in the long grass beyond the high school, watching the hot afternoon sun rise higher and higher into the sky.

Clint took her hand carefully in his.

"Are you still looking for good times?"

She laughed, her free hand going up to her neck to toy with the silver arrow charm. "I already find it, you dolt."

.


End file.
